Little Red Riding Hood Real
by Green Maiden Moitan
Summary: Just an idea I've been toying with, my own version of Little Red. . . Enter werewolves, Baba Yaga, the Black Forest and Slavic Myth. It's insane. .
1. Down the Path

Near the Vistula river, a small road winds around it, deep within the infamous Black Forest. The gnarled, ghastly gray trees crunch together at their crests; old bones pushing out of the ragged skin. Voluminous, dismal shadows there are perfect kindles for the stories to issue forth from. One of the myriad of fantasies being about the unusual, bright gold flowers which blossomed only at midnight. They are said to be so tempting to any traveler that one could not resist plucking a bloom, and then taking it's even more alluring sister and continue to stray off the path so. Innocent that myth would have been, but for the flowers always lead the fools to Baba Yaga, guardian to the Next World's Gates. A horrible witch she is in all respects, who would gut any man like a rabbit and use his skull as one of her ground lanterns littering the stony paths and yard within her cottage's fence. They say that the lights coming from those skulls could fly out and snatch the very soul from one's breath! Then again, that is only if you are a superstitious person. . .  
  
Helena Reppah; a young woman, na‹ve to the rest of the world's corruption; is not afraid of the Forest's secrets and haunting fairy tales. The only reason for this red cape-d girl's willingness to travel thee dark, spectral Lonely Man's Trail through the foreboding Black Forest to her grandmother's house is because of an unearthly attraction she feels for this Wood and it's ghosts. In fact, late at night she entertained the idea that her grandmother, living alone and so deep within the forest, is the witch Baba Yaga herself.   
  
Once she had arrived late to her grandmother's cottage, and all around her yard, up along the walk-ways to her charming, moon-flowered porch, little black candles lit themselves as soon as the sun set itself and the forest darkened.   
  
Helena came from her memory in time to dance gracefully back onto the path, sending her red cap and intricate festival skirt swirling into motion. In childish awe, she held back her sandy, whisped braids back from her face so she could spin again, dizzying herself with the blur of bright reds, greens, blue purples yellows embroidered against her black skirt. Nimbly, the brown walking boots came to a soft stop; swishing the skirt back and forth, and carried her straightforward again. Her toes curled against the soles of her shoes to keep her balance in the revolving world. Especially what was loping exceedingly silent and close to her. As she continued, the creature move with such stealth that none of her senses detected it within the forest's secretive, molted rushes.  
  
****  
  
Close, so excruciatingly close. All this musty, thick morning he'd been chasing prey, finding and ripping apart only two, scrawny adolescent rabbits; and now, his nose smelt bigger prey, much larger, meatier prey. His gray-pink tongue hung casually out of the side of his mouth, flopping over canines as he rose and fell in pace. 


	2. The Perspective of a Wolf

~*~* Okay, the first chapter was just a teaser tidbit, so to speak, of it. I wanted to post it and see what reactions would be to it, such as if I'm dragging down the story by beefing it up with adjectives and little superstitions. Here's an explanation of what I expect to do with this story: A Gothic romance of Red Riding Hood, going much more in depth with character development, Eastern European history; mostly centered on the Prussians by the late 16th century, to give it a real place and anchor, making the fairy tale more realistic and better appeal to mature audiences. Baba Yaga is Red's grandmother, but for this story only, I'm making her less terrible. . . So she won't eat children, but she'll still be ostracized because of her intense practice in magic. Also it's convenient that Red's original Grandmother lived alone in the woods, and since Baba Yaga haunts the woods, I thought it would be an interesting twist to the story. I won't give away the entire story here, so hopefully this explanation will ease some of the confusion from the first post.*~*~  
  
  
  
With extraordinary ease, his rough, mud-splotched paws slipped in and out, above and under the smooth, crisp leaves. Continuing his stealthy ambulance, there seemed to be more leaves trying to catch oddly under his wide spread paws, wanting to crack and warn his prey. As always, the wolf's tenacious instinct nearly sprung the corded muscles of his hindquarters into an attack, but he controlled the urge by freezing himself where he crouched. The wolf whined and barked anxious yelps at the human, frustrated with this ongoing battle between voracity and curiosity. It would take less than a minute to take down the warm body, it pleaded with him, using only a predator's logic to argue his case, but the willful human won out, again. A sniff of the faint, dwindling scent jerked the wolf back into motion. His actions were all deliberate, low to the ground. No longer did his tail wave high, but was tucked low between the two propelling legs, pushing his hunched front forward. At this liquid rate, he soon recovered the lost distance between himself and the young girl, oblivious to her stalker.   
  
The moon rose beautifully, all a-glow in its soft silver illumination. They continued on; him weaving expertly through the trees, roots and other surprises, her on the flora and fauna over grown dirt path, until the path spread itself wide enough to defy the encroaching plants. The girl delicately crossed over the sweet green grace watched by golden eyes. So intent were they on following the girl over the lushness that they failed to heed the structure situated in a nook of the glen. The building did nothing to cure his consuming interest, only bloating it more.   
  
From the ground to the stilted supports there was little differentiating it from the mound which it was built upon. Dirt packed into the building's dais, only successfully being held up by roots of a sundry of herbs and weeds plotted in it. Even more eccentric than the queer mound under it, the house itself was plump and rounded at the bottom, curving into a choke, then expanding the wall of molding sienna bricks to open into the thicket entrenched roof. From the great distance he hid, inhuman vision allowed his eyes to detect something more sturdy than just wood bundles to cover it. Over the stacked, for that's all he conclude it was, roof, his eyes wandered to the chimney, in just the house's pear shape. Smoke puffed up through it, carrying fragrant, teasing scents of herbs, and when the smoke doubled, the tantalizing smell of juicy meat beckoned to him. Tantalizing as they were, the moon was still out and he wouldn't change until dawn. So, finally giving into his hunger pains as the girl entered the peculiar house, he bounded off to catch something to sustain himself for the night.   
  
Exhilarated at the freedom, the wolf pounded triumphantly against the ground with expeditious haste. The pent up frustration had built into energy and no the wolf was to use it, stretching out in long, winding strides. Continuing into the forest, playing a one-man game of tag against the unreceptive forest. In all his rampant frolicking, his stomach lurched, growling at him. That froze him over. In the abrupt silence, he heard his hear pounding and lungs flaring at the pace his nostrils were. Craning those nostrils to his down wind side, a tang sent an excited spasm through his body. The wolf treaded tactfully, now unbound by stiffness, over the hazards of the forest, zoning in on his prey.   
  
Ahh, the increased sharpness of the aroma revealed that his prey was alone, and smelled like deer. A piteous cry echoed into the unreceptive night what a young deer indeed! He slide closer and closer to the deer. It would be an easy kill, it being alone, young and frightened. Which was all well, he didn't need to confront a deer alone. And he was tired. The wolf closed in on the deer undetected. The man stopped his whirling thoughts. Now the wolf had full concentration. Not wasting a moment, the wolf padded one paw at a time closer to the crying deer. Near enough now, he coiled up for the sprint and tackle. Three, two, and without warning the wind changed, three! A mere bolt of lightning, he flashed from his hiding spot. The deer panicked, dashing off, only too slowly. In a few, exasperating strides, he over took it. By the creature's hinds, he jumped. It cried out. Teeth sank in as it tried to continue.   
  
The wolf was too heavy. It collapsed to the ground. Rounding instantly on it, his fangs ripped out the throat. The fragile vertebrae snapped, leaving the deer a twitching corpse. Blood gushed over the ripped skin and fur, muscles and tendons spilled as eagerly as the red liquid poured. Mad with hunger, he drenched his muzzle in the thick, warm blood while ripping the muscle from the neck. Each tear he made with his canines caused spasms and an explosion of blood onto his face. Soon he was picking at the bone and shook his head vigorously from side to side, flinging the crumpled deed in the process. Sated when his teeth racked marrow that the neck was finished, he began to tear at the deer's shoulders. He growled in the back of his stuffed mouth, ramming his claws into the deer to hold it still as he jerked his head up and down, tearing, ripping the shoulder met. At last he stopped ravaging the body, falling back on his haunches. The wolf was full and ready to sleep, he nuzzled into the deer's still warm belly and began to fall asleep.   
  
Then he jerked, twitching excessively. His head rose from the comfortable pillow to glare balefully into the woods. The human was reminding him of the cottage and responded with a bored and irritated snort. Seeing the wolf wouldn't cooperate, he soothed him to sleep, then roused the body. Turning to pad back to the house, he turned back as an after thought, and grabbed one of the deer's legs. He set off for the house, going the long way due to the deer.  
  
At last he returned to his previous hiding spot and settled in for the night, drowsy eyes noting the house's golden candle light still burning. 


	3. The Night She Finds Out

The coldness of the underground stone stairs chilled her through her leather shoes. That wasn't what surprised her; it was the darkness of the stairway. When she reached the bottom of the flight, she froze at the threshold of his door. Forbidding air suffocated her, doubt clogged her mind, worry wrung her hands together as she clenched her chest in fear. What if her nightmares proved true? Could Hertz really be dead? Always she had clung to the hope of some other event having happened, but now as she stood before the wooden door, the aged creases and shadowed rings of the tree bark seemed to scry that her betrothed would never draw another breath. Gathering up her strength, she breathed in what courage from this sickly air she could and marched up to the door. Utter terror struck her and froze her raised hand before she could even knock.   
  
" Come in," whispered a familiar rumbling voice beckoning to her. The voice woke her memories and a thin confidence gave her enough strength to pull the latch and push the door open with a silly creak. Into the room she timidly walked, feeling much like a flower who'd been planted in a forest. Then her very planter came and plucked her from her thriving spot, bringing her to dry out in his kitchen. Only her beautiful fragrence would remain in the withered, dryed out shell of what she felt. For more time, she turned and gently closed the door, whispering a prayer and hoping the gust caused by the door would be enough to send it to the fates.   
  
When she turned around again, she opened her eyes and tilted her chin up from sorrow to amazement and curiosity. The room expanded cavernously. Wooden ceiling arches stood up as tall as trees, the rock ceiling their canopy of leaves. Tapestries hung along the walls as mats of flowering vines, demanding their beauty be acknowledged before any untword judgments passed made of the room. At the center of the opposite, longest wall, a brilliant fire burned deep in the belly of a massive fireplace. Just as much light poured over the room; smoke billowed up into the chimney. Absently, she wondered how they built a chimney so far below earth as her ravenous eyes devoured the room to sate her curiosity. Finally she managed to tear her eyes away to look at the distant table. Even before he spoke, she knew him.  
  
" It has been too long, Darva," Varick began politely, but it gave her nerve enough to amble carefully to his table with stiff and almost-numb feet. He stood up and walked around the table, pausing just in front of her, almost as if he had intended to do something other than merely walk to her.  
  
" Hello Varick," a mere squeek she managed before he grasped her in a tight embrace. She hugged him back and coughed when he tightened his grip. Immediately he let go of her and stepped back, taking all the comforting heat with him.   
  
" Beg pardon, I forget my strength at times." she nodded and laughed a little in agreement. " So, Darva, to what do I owe the pleasantly surprising visit?" His kind, amiable words made her thoughts whirl. How could he be so happy if there was bad news? She berated herself for ever thinking he'd keep news of Hertz from her.   
  
" I haven't heard from Hertz-" the momentary, guilty glint in her eyes stopped her. When he tilted his head slightly, that broke her state, " in seven fortnights. I was wondering if you had heard anything of him? "   
  
" Well, I thought him to tell you himself, but. ." her breath caught in agonizing anticipation.   
  
" Please! Don't hold back, in the name of friendship, tell me." blurted words from her heart before her mind could think to stop them. At the sound of friendship, the brief tug of his cheeks made her think she'd struck him by saying that. But how. . " I. . I know you've been stiff and cold to me lately, and with the way you welcomed me just now, I. . I thought your indifference was all an act. Please, if it wasn't, tell me what's befallen him." His face softened as he lifted her face gently by the chin.   
  
" He hasn't written you yet?" silently she shook her head 'no', moving his hand with her chin. A frown creased over his features. " I thought he would have when he reached the frontier. . ." At this, her eyebrows shot up in shock and horror. She knew she must have looked betrayed because he was quick to explain. " I sent him there - no- it was because I found out that you two were betrothed and with the state expanding, I gave him a right to claim land for you two to live on, to own." he concluded.   
  
Eastern and Southern frontier became known for two things, new land and life with it or death. The latter dominated as the prevailing one for any man sent out there. Anyone knew that. Then again, those who chanced all odds and lived. . Hertz had to be one of them, he was too virtueous not to be. . .Fourteen weeks was enough time to send word and it be revived, more than enough since they were close to the expanding border. But so far none had come, and so the only reasonable conclusion would be. . .Varick's sudden pained expression told her he had just reached the same conclusion.   
  
" No," a horse whisper moved from her mind to voice. "No. . ." She defied the inevitable conclusion again, backing away from Varick at the same time; as if he caused Hertz death himself, or he had sent Hertz knowingly to the frontier, not having to bother with killing him himself. Varick moved to her, trying to reason wit h her. With the way his mouth moved, she could at least tell that. " No!" her voice shrilled with hysterics as she sensed him wrap his arms around her and soothingly run his long hand over her hair. Before she started fighting his hold, she experienced the shock of imobility when his body stiffened to hold her and keep her from hurting herself. Grief fueled her dementia as she twisted and tried in every scratching, tearing way to try to fight him off. Easily he lifter her up by her waist and carried her over to one of his chairs while she still fought, and curled his body around hers, restraining her foolish acts. Slowly the frantic cloud lifted from her mind as he drained her energy on fighting him.   
  
" There, shuu. ." Again his powerful voice helped her, sending soothing, relaxing shivers through her body, making her mind and senses wake up. They were gently rocking back and forth, she found out; his rough wool robe brushing against her bare neck. As her eyes opened, she could see her honey plaits, undone somewhat, trailing down the from of her dress, tucked under strong arms. To calm herself, she followed those arms up, turning her head our from being tucked under his chin to his shoulder and finally to look into his face, his pale yellow-green eyes staring steadily and calmly at her. " I'll look over my messages again and see if I might have missed a letter." She nodded, feeling quite like a child who had just thrown a temper. But, she thought, wasn't that just what I did? Complacent, she walked with him to the desk.   
  
((Hey guys, tell me what you think in your reviews, should I post the summary or not? Respond pleases ^^ And thank you 'Me Acorn And Sometimes Banana', Fivero, and 'no one' for reviewing! I'm really sorry about not getting anything new up sooner. . I'll work on doing a better job of it since life's not as hectic as it used to be. )) 


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